


It doesn't really matter to me (you taste as sweet as honey)

by Anonymous



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magical Bond, Multi, Quests, Sex Pollen, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25199617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Kudos: 7
Collections: Anonymous





	It doesn't really matter to me (you taste as sweet as honey)

It was Jaskier's idea, of course. He was in it for the glory, the quest, the mysteriously flowery subplot he could weave into some other mysteriously flowery song. 

Geralt was in it for the gold. Obviously.

He wouldn't have done it, except that there also happened to be some rarer herbs, quite usable for potions, on that side of the ocean, and he wanted to make something with them. And Jaskier's little quest required them going on foot for alarge part of the journey, which meant Roach could have a little rest, too. It didn't have anything to do with the fact that Jaskier had looked almost tangibly happy when he'd smiled up at Geralt, grinning that cheerful grin and looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, and asked if they might, maybe just any hint of a whim- go out and try to find this object? 

It was foolish, really. He wouldn't do it if it wasn't a trip of just a few days, but Jaskier had asked and he'd said yes.

Like a fool. 

But he'd already made his promise, so that was that. They were going to go find a magical item in a magical land filled with magic, so he might as well buckle up and be ready. Geralt began sharpening his swords.

It was late in the day when Geralt managed to find Jaskier again, hoisting him by his shirttails in the middle of a busy street, where the songbird was peering into a perfume shop. 

"Jaskier," he said, menacingly. 

"Ah, Geralt! Hello there. I was actually just on my way to that shop down the road, going to get a little- _ack!_ Hands off me, you brute! - As I was saying, I was just trying to find a new piece of cord with which to tie my lute, because honestly, Geralt, I am going to need it. You know..." 

"You were supposed to meet me three hours ago. Jaskier. Why are you at a shop when you supposedly should be at another, different shop?" 

"Ah, well, actually," the man wriggled about. "I was... Going to the rope maker, but really they have the most delightful bottles here, you know? And the scents are practically divine. No, really, Geralt. What's wrong with your face?" 

Geralt was glaring with his face. This wasn't entirely unusual, it was just a little more exasperated this time. 

"Trick question. You weren't supposed to be at the other shop. You were supposed-" (and here he hauled the other man backwards and slung him over one arm) "-to be meeting me. For our journey. Which you begged me to accompany you on."

"Oh. Well, but Geralt, that isn't really nice- you know, I do tend to sleep late sometimes. And that ale last night! Whew, gods, it was strong stuff, wasn't it? Even you were put out a little by it, weren't you? Can Witchers get fully drunk? I mean, I've seen you get saucy, but, well. Well and truly sauced-" 

He continued on in this sunny way, slung over Geralt's solid bicep and hitching his breath every now and then when the Witcher took too large of a step. (It wasn't too often.) "Geralt?"

He walked. 

"Geraalt." 

He strode a little harder.

"Ahh, Geralt!"

He came to a stop, a little abruptly, and snapped "What."

"Geralt, I do actually need those lute supplies. I mean, the strap is fine, but it does chafe a little- you know- and when I do performances, for gentlefolk, and not just horses and great growly hunters, I do need to look nice. Not that Roach isn't _such_ a lady. Oh dear, not to say such a thing. Not at all! Ah, but she does have a certain country charm you know, and it certainly shows itself when she's- breaking wind- or really Geralt, just. Just shitting, _ow_ , fertilizing the fields, right in the middle of my solo. Sort of puts the ow! Stop jostling me, you arse!"

Geralt had almost come to a stop altogether, although he'd turned around some time ago. Standing in the street, dust clouding around them, he gave Jaskier a slightly sharp jerk and set him down. Jaskier looked very put out. He pouted gloomily, sullen for a quiet moment, before sniffing arrogantly and continuing, "now where was I? Oh, yes! I was saying it puts the Muse off a bit, you know? You must know. At least a little. You might not have the finer arts of, err- _eloquence_ , down pat, but you certainly have that sort of..." 

He waved expressively, patting Geralt's shoulder. "Bloodlust, that... Imminent, fierce, hunter-instinct. Rawr. Thank you, Geralt." 

He strode into the rope maker's shop, rapping his knuckles on the door as he went in. Geralt blinked, slowly. 

He sighed. He leaned on the building. 

When Jaskier came out, beaming, Geralt shoved him in the calf with his toe. The bard went wobbling and Geralt reminded him: "What you need, bard, is to learn how to lie properly. And when to lie. And where to lie, too, that's probably important. Where we're going, you're going to need it." 

"Oh, I know that, and to whom to lie, and why to lie, and what for to lie, Gods, Geralt, I see, alright, but I hardly expect you of all people to be, springing trick questions on me! It's ridiculous! And the price of ropes too. Geralt, look at this rope. Do you know how much it cost? Twice as much as it should have. Which-" he wiggled his finger at Geralt "-is how much trouble this whole business is! Lying, not lying, telling the truth while not telling the truth while not _not_ telling the truth- it's enough to drive a man insane!" 

"I thought you were buying cord?" Geralt said. 

"I was going to. Rope seemed more practical." 

"Ah. And didn't you consider yourself a master of tricks and showmanship, just earlier? Discretion and deception? Showing off and turnarounds?" 

"That is not what I said. Almost none of that is right." Jaskier said crossly. "And I do appreciate your help. Of course I do! And I'm convinced we'll manage. We'll come away very rich, I have no doubts. But still... It does make you think, doesn't it?" 

He was getting misty-eyed. 

"The powers that some creatures have, the very beautiful... Destructive gift..." He blinked. Theatrically wiped a tear. Sniffed briskly.  
"But never mind that! We'll have beautiful gifts ourselves, soon enough. With your mountainous immovable sort of... Rocky strength, and my ever-flowing, never-stilling wit and charm, we'll be the toast of the camp in seconds. Or minutes at least. I have no doubts. No doubts in our abilities!" 

"The literal toast of the camp, you think?" 

"I- what? No, Geralt. I should have preempted that. Humor, ha. You're in a good mood though aren't you?" 

Geralt made a face. It was the same one he was already making. Jaskier punched his shoulder, then shook his hand a little, and began crooning about Geralt's 'lovelorn disposition'.  
"And you want to see the fairies, of course, and they'll be beautiful, and they'll think _we're_ ravishingly beautiful because, honestly, Geralt?" 

He stared soulfully into Geralt's eyes. Geralt's eyes darted a little but stared back. 

"We are," Jaskier whispered, and beamed. 

".....What?" 

Jaskier frowned. 

"Beautiful, Geralt. I thought I'd made that clear. It's okay. We can't all smell like roses all the time, but your rugged and powerful thing you've got going on will have to do for you, for the time being. Although I do still have some rose oil! You could use that. Ooo." 

"Rose and onion," Geralt said wryly. "Charming." 

"Oh, well, true. But you'd bathe first. Don't they bathe? Gosh, I hope they do. I can pull off the dashing good looks for a while but they're a little undermined when I'm covered in dirt." 

"Don't roll in it then." 

They bantered in this way for a while, and then were silent before stopping to eat a bite. They walked up a dirt road and two trails and down a valley and through some woods and up a grassy hill, and they camped down underneath some overhanging wood and dirt. A little hilly cliff, almost, in the countryside. There weren't many flowers around, but there was a lot of grass. Geralt sat up with his back to a small hillock, and Jaskier flopped onto the ground. The latter hummed, gently, in a deep voice. He was quiet, though. The sun was yellowing and bedding down in the soft horizon, clouds all adrift around it, and the sky was a dreamlike purple. Geralt laid low the rest of the fire, and let it mellow to embers. Softly, the night closed in around them, stars coming out and crickets chirping. The trees in the near distance _hush_ ed their leaves. 

Jaskier yawned. Geralt glanced at him, and then glanced back at him as soon as he'd finished the first look. 

Jaskier was laid out peacefully on the ground, a few patches of dirt but mostly grass underneath him, his body relaxed and comfortable-looking, his arms tucked up above and behind his head. His legs were akimbo in the grass, one knee half up. His clothes looked fairly new but the knee was already becoming a little faded from travel, wear. Not yet tear. 

The man's hair blew in the breeze. His eyes were shut. His face was pale under the starlight but it was lightly freckled, like dust. Or seeds strewn on the ground.  
He cracked one eye open, and saw Geralt looking. He smiled a little. "Going to say something?" 

Geralt shook his head. Rasped out, "No." 

Jaskier closed his eye again. "G'night, then, Geralt." 

It was a temperate night. The sky was still a deep, deep blue. The grass fronds waved. Jaskier's eyelashes were still, against his cheeks.  
Geralt smiled back, just a little. 


End file.
